By Eben van Tonder, 7 March 25
The Moons Wisdom
The moon climbed higher, throwing long silver shadows across the room. The palm trees cracked and swayed outside, and the sea kept whispering to the shore. The warm Lagos breeze carried the scent of salt and earth through the open doors, stirring the sheer curtains like ghostly figures.
Sigi and Armi were in bed, but they weren’t asleep. They lay still, listening.
Eben’s voice drifted through the house. He was speaking to their mother.
“You mean everything to me,” they heard him say. “I wish I never had to sleep again—because when I do, I stop thinking of you. And you are my highest joy, my purest thought. Every story of a goddess, every tale of an enchantress—they are all about you.”
The boys glanced at each other, knowing. Then, silent as shadows, they crept toward the main bedroom.
I dont want to sleep
Eben laying on the bed, the phone resting beside him, his gaze lost in the ceiling as if he could still see her there. When he noticed them, he smiled—a deep, warm laugh escaping him.
“I won’t sleep,” he told them. “I’m thinking of your mom. Of how much I love her. How she is my highest thought and my greatest joy.”
He reached out, and they scrambled onto the bed beside him.
“Tonight, all the men will sleep together, missing the woman who is everything to us.”
The house settled around them, sighing with the night. The waves murmured in the distance, the palm trees whispered secrets to the wind, and soon, Sigi and Armi drifted off, their breathing soft and steady.
Eben watched them for a while, his heart full. Then, one by one, he carried them back to their beds, tucking them in beneath the weight of dreams.
But he – he stayed awake.
The hush of the night wrapped around him, the sea’s rhythm steady and eternal. The room still held the warmth of their laughter, but his thoughts were only of her.
He could still hear her voice, still feel her presence lingering in the air like a whispered vow. She was his highest thought, his purest joy. The goddess of every tale ever told.
Sleep would not come.
Instead, he let himself drift in the space between longing and certainty, between wakefulness and the dreams where she would surely find him.
His life was complete.